


Spoils of Conquest

by ktbl



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games)
Genre: Aftercare, Consensual Non-Consent, F/M, Fingerfucking, Forced Orgasm, Hair-pulling, Kinktober 2020, Light Dom/sub, Outdoor Sex, Outworld (Mortal Kombat), Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26696965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktbl/pseuds/ktbl
Summary: “I have an idea.” Jade’s voice is pitched low as she stands in the back of the hall, watching the court gathering. Her eyes flicker and flash over the sycophants and supplicants, but always go back to the princess in blue, bored at the high table.“Now I am concerned. What is it?” General Kotal, one of Shao Kahn’s prized military minds, is impassive as he keeps an eye on the room. His eyes drift more often to the smaller woman beside him in her dark green fighting attire.“Everyone thinks I’m a delicate flower-“ Kotal snorts once in disbelief, and Jade glares at him with narrowed eyes. “They are stupid to think it, but they do. Much like they discount Princess Kitana. They do not know how often I have laid you out on the floor. But it might be fun to let you do it to me.”“Are you propositioning me, Jade?” Kotal’s voice is equally low, rumbling in his chest. Their trysting is not much of a secret to most of the court, but they try not to make it blatant. This is the most public Jade has ever been.--Kinktober 2020, Day 12: non-con (which here is consensual roleplay).
Relationships: Jade/Kotal Kahn (Mortal Kombat)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	Spoils of Conquest

“I have an idea.” Jade’s voice is pitched low as she stands in the back of the hall, watching the court gathering. Her eyes flicker and flash over the sycophants and supplicants, but always go back to the princess in blue, bored at the high table.

“Now I am concerned. What is it?” General Kotal, one of Shao Kahn’s prized military minds, is impassive as he keeps an eye on the room. His eyes drift more often to the smaller woman beside him in her dark green fighting attire.

“Everyone thinks I’m a delicate flower-“ Kotal snorts once in disbelief, and Jade glares at him with narrowed eyes. “They are stupid to think it, but they do. Much like they discount Princess Kitana. They do not know how often I have laid you out on the floor. But it might be fun to let you do it to me.”

“Are you propositioning me, Jade?” Kotal’s voice is equally low, rumbling in his chest. Their trysting is not much of a secret to most of the court, but they try not to make it blatant. This is the most public Jade has ever been.

“Some night, I want you to come to my chambers. When I’m off-duty. When Kitana does not need me. And I want you to take me, Kotal.” Jade turns her eyes on him, pinning him to the wall with her gaze. “I want you to be the big, nasty brute they say the Osh-Tekk are. I want you ravish me.” She feels the smile crease her lips at his surprised expression, and then she turns back to the room. Her eyes suddenly focus on her charge, her Princess, at the head table, hand raised for Jade. She pushes away from the wall and heads to Kitana’s summons. She does not see Kotal the rest of the night.

When she wakes in the morning, back in her own rooms after a long night talking with the princess, she finds a small package outside her door. Inside is a slip of paper with a message, tucked around a small fabric-wrapped object. Her mouth drifts into a smile as she reads the note.

_When you wish it, wear this, and I will know._

She opens the small bundle to find a decidedly Osh-Tekk bracelet, a green stone serpent biting its own tail, set with tiny emerald eyes. It is unsigned but the Osh-Tekk nature is clear, and she wonders how long Kotal had been holding onto it. He’s never been much for tokens.

She wears it for the following two days, watching Kotal’s eyes finding it unerringly every time they pass each other in the royal palace. Jade thinks she sees his shoulders stiffen, the muscles of his chest tighten, when he does. They have one lunch together while she wears it and she is thinking about what it would be like to have him just bend her over the table and take her then and there, regardless of the witnesses. It would be utterly mortifying - but the idea of being at his mercy sends a thrill up her spine. She expects him that night, but he does not come to her door, and she spends the night with her hands busy between her thighs and thinking how much better it would be to have his cock there instead.

She takes it off the next day as if in a fit of pique, and she thinks there might be a look of disappointment on his face, but Kotal says nothing, merely dipping his chin once briefly in acknowledgement. It is several more days before she feels comfortable slipping the bracelet on again. Kitana has declared herself to be busy with something, sequestering herself with her mother the Queen. It’s near the anniversary of Kitana’s father’s death, and she guesses that has something to do with it; she does not give it another thought. She has almost forgotten about the bracelet until she feels a broad hand close around her wrist.

“You.”

It’s Kotal’s voice, but there’s a different timbre to it, and something deep in her core tightens. Her eyes shoot to the bracelet, and then up at him, and his eyes are on hers. He’s all blue, she realizes. Wearing some of his battle-paint. She licks her lips and feels a thrill of danger shoot through her.

“Me, yes. Get your hands off me.”

“No.” That simple finality makes her heart speed up. “You’re coming with me.”

“No one has the right to summon me but-“

“Hold your tongue. You are Princess Kitana’s bodyguard, but you are not exempt from the consequences of your actions. Not even her intercession could prevent this now.” Kotal says sharply, and his hand tightens. He pulls her, not very gently, out of the courtyard she had been in, and towards the stables. It’s been a long time since they’ve gone on a ride, alone. A moment of nervousness pulses through her, but then she lets it go. He’s smart - they _have_ done this before, and no one will be suspicious to see them go. His grip on her is almost bruisingly tight. Glancing at him sidelong, she sees he has a macahuitl strapped to his back, but there is nothing else.

His voice interrupts their nearly silent march. “If you wish to stop, at any time, there should be a word for you to use, a sign. Something we cannot mistake for love play.”

“Serpent,” she says after a moment, looking at the bracelet. “And if I cannot talk - I will do something three times.”

“Serpent,” he agrees, “or three times a tap or such. Noted.” His eyes take on the most predatory look she has ever seen, and there is the flicker of heat between her thighs. A quadruped waits for them, already saddled, at the stables. Kotal picks Jade up and sets her down atop the beast, and swings up behind her in the saddle.

“Do not attempt to flee,” he says in a voice just loud enough to be heard by anyone else, if they were listening. “It will go poorly for you if you do.”

Her nipples go hard at his words, the implicit threat. “Kotal-“

“Would you prefer I take you here and now? I could.” He pushes her back against him and she can feel his cock beneath the loincloth, already stirring. She makes a sound of dismay before she can catch herself. “Bend over the princess’ spoiled bodyguard, and take you in the stables like a beast.” She lets out another sound, a mix of disgust and dismay and maybe, though she refuses to admit it, fascination. “No. It sounds like you might enjoy that. You’ll go where I want you to, Jade.” He sounds implacable and one hand is heavy on her hip, holding her in place, as he turns the beast out of the complex. They ride towards the heavy rock walls and barren landscape outside the city, and he keeps one hand on the reins, the other possessively grabbing at one of her breasts and idly playing with it as they ride.

She fights back, because she is _Jade_ and of course she would, even if this is something she’s asked for. Every time she wriggles, every time she tries to put distance between them (as marginal as it may be), he shoves her back against him harder, tweaking her breast or squeezing it just the right side of too hard.

“If you keep this up, I’ll have no choice but to tie you up when we make camp. I would like to give you some dignity, but unless you change your behavior…” Kotal trails off, and she grumbles softly, but says nothing. She’s not sure she wants that - there’s a line that being bound crosses, somewhere in her head. It makes her think of the trophies Shao Kahn ties up in his arena, and she is not interested in that.

She stills herself, and sits like a statue for the rest of the ride.

Kotal sighs. It might actually be disappointment.

When the arrive at the camp site, he almost pushes her off the quadruped. There’s thin tree cover, and she recognizes the small stream that flows past. He’s set up a tent, just like the legion uses. It’s like he’s ridden to war and brought her back. Furs, fabric, a camp chair and a pallet on the ground. Nothing much - about as much as one could fit on a beast with a single rider on a single trip. He definitely planned this. Jade has enough time to take it in before he drops off the beast in a puff of dust.

“Strip, woman.”

Kotal begins to hobble the beast and sets it out to graze in the thin tree cover, and doesn’t even bother to look over at Jade.

“I will do _no_ such thing.” There’s true indignation in her voice - they’re an hour’s ride outside the city, but she’s not about to strip herself entirely naked while he busies himself doing mindless chores.

“You will, or I will make you. Take off your clothes. And if you try to run, I will have you on the ground.”

Jade snorts and crosses her arms, unmoving. She watches him, how the bright sunlight glitters off the sharp points of his blade, and the two smaller sickles on his back. He rises, seeming somehow taller and broader in this landscape. There’s a flicker of disappointment on his face, and she doesn’t know if it is because she’s still dressed, or that she hasn’t run. His step crunches across the dry earth back to her.

He knows where the tunic fastens, and tugs on the overlapping pieces, watching them fall loose, unlacing the low back panel with tugs that snap the leather thongs. She fights back: fists and feet fly, connecting with hard thuds against his body. She doesn’t pull her punches, and her heart begins to pound as the fighting instincts take over.

Kotal grabs her by the wrists and knocks her feet out from under her, a well-placed foot to her leg sending her crashing to her knees. He pulls a length of her own clothing, one of the many cords, and binds her wrists together behind her. Her heart keeps pounding, but the warmth pooling at the base of her spine is for more than just the urge to fight. It _hurts_ , rocks digging into her knees and shins, and she wants to reach up and strangle him. She tries to lunge to her feet, but his grip is strong in the bright sunlight. “Good girl.”

“Stay there,” he says laconically. She resits more, twisting, trying to leap to her feet but unable to. She’s breathing hard, and he strips off the rest of her clothing until her skin is bare to the sunlight. Every time she tries to squirm away, one of those big hands closes on her, fists in her braid, holds her in place. She swears at him, curses him, hisses imprecations of what she’ll do to him when she’s free, and he ignores all of it.

“You’re not my master,” she spits, “and I am not some beast for you to command.”

“I am, and you are.” He is in all his Osh-Tekk glory today, bracelets and collar with painted shell and bone and hung with teeth and claws, hair pulled up and back, and looking down at her with all the haughtiness anyone in Shao Kahn’s court could hope to summon. “I have brought you here, haven’t I? There is no one around to hear you scream, to beg for mercy I will not grant. Your best choice is to do as you’re told. Please me well enough and I will not take too much from you.”

“And if I don’t?”

He smiles, as if he expected the question.

“You will enjoy it less. I will enjoy it more.” He steps forward. Down below the belts, the golden skulls staring at her, she sees the bulge beneath his loincloth. “I suggest you take the initiative. And do not even think of biting, Edenian.”

“With my hands tied behind my back? Damn you, I will do no such thing.”

He reaches down and twitches the loincloth aside, and instinctively she spits at him. The saliva drips off the thick cock in front of her, curving slightly upward, and the liquid heat between her legs grows.

She keeps her mouth shut, refusing to open it for him. The head of his cock prods at her cheek, brushes across her lips. There’s a drip of precome there already, and it’s on her lips and slicking her up for him. Kotal’s hand knots in her hair, the pull just right.

“Open up. No teeth.”

“I thought you Osh-Tekk liked blood and pain,” Jade snarls, head tilting up with pressure, before snapping her jaws shut again, lips sealing tight.

“I like the fight.” Kotal nudges her face with his cock again, and his fingers dig into her hair, closer to her scalp. A muted shriek tears itself from her throat, mouth opening just enough. Kotal takes it as an invitation and pushes head of his cock between her lips. “Good girl.” His voice is deprecating, his eyes on hers. He pauses, as if waiting for her to give the signal this is too much, but she doesn’t, and his eyes gleam brighter.

He doesn’t give her more than that to adjust. He fucks her mouth, drawing in and out of her, fingers weaving through her hair to keep her in place. What was half-hard goes full with the work she does with her tongue and lips. There’s a sense of relaxation and release as she simply lets him take what he wants. It’s easier not to fight him. She breathes when she can, feels tears begin to leak from her eyes and spit from her mouth, but he doesn’t seem to care at all.

Worse, she can feel the dampness between her thighs spreading, the way her nipples harden, as he drives himself into her mouth and to her throat. She gags on him more than once, but she doesn’t give her sign.

“I might almost think you liked it,” Kotal says thickly. “That you liked abasing yourself before a - general.” There might have been a skip there, or he might have caught his breath, but he holds her head in place, watching her watch him. She swallows around him, sees how his breathing stutters when she does, the heavy weight of him in her mouth. His cock jerks, and she grazes her teeth ever so sightly across the shaft, head bobbing. He lets out a heavy groan, and increases the pace of fucking her mouth until she is almost gagging, spittle dripping from her lips onto her skin, darkening the earth.

She closes her eyes, not wanting this, knowing she can put a stop to it if she really, truly wants to. But the wanting it is more than the not-wanting, and she lets out a muffled cry of anguished indecision, cunt throbbing with unfulfilled want, around Kotal. He jerks suddenly and buries himself as deep in her mouth as he can, and a bitter, salty taste fills her mouth. He holds himself there while she swallows, the muscles of her mouth working against him as he shudders his way almost to the point of overstimulation.

“Good girl.” He tugs on her plait once more as if to make a point, waits just a moment, and then pulls out.

“You are nothing but a brutal, foolish barbarian,” she snarls, cognizant of the irony - drool on her chin, naked and bound, body craving his touch but unwilling to admit it. She will _not_ yield to him, not of her own accord.

Kotal instead simply picks her up, hefting her over his shoulder like a sack of grain or a prisoner of war, and carries her towards the tent. She kicks at him, or tries to until he holds her legs down against him; she cannot bang her wrists against him, so instead she tries to bite. She sinks her teeth into the thick muscle of him, tasting paint and skin, but no blood. There’s a sudden sharp sting on her ass as he smacks her, and her pulse pounds loud as a stampede in her ears.

“And that is bad. There will be consequences.”

He almost drops her on the pallet and sits down beside her, then draws her into his lap. She can feel the bulk of his cock, half-hard, pressing against her. Kotal hooks one hand around her lower body, hand pressing against her cunt, and the other supports her upper body in his lap.

“You’ll get nothing out of me.” Jade glares at him defiantly, eyes bright and angry. She feels the rumble of laughter from him more than she hears it.

“Such a woman, Jade. I will wring you out until you are a husk.” One finger pushes up between her folds, dipping into her. “So wet. You claim I will get nothing out of you, and yet your body tells me differently. You are enjoying this.” He pulls his finger out, makes sure she is looking down to see it glisten with her own arousal. He runs it around her entrance, stimulating every one of those hungry nerves, before pushing it back inside her. She tries to resist, clenching her inner muscles, but it only makes him add another finger, and another.

Lust courses through her as one hand holds her in place while the other one slowly fucks in and out of her. She hates how pliable she is becoming with his repeated intrusions. She tries to resist it, but the slickness between her thighs only eases his passage, and before long she is rocking in his lap, trying to get more of him inside her. He laughs again as she does it, enjoying her discomfiture, the dark blush of shame that burns her face and neck when she realizes it.

“No,” she says, squirming, stopping despite how badly she wants it. It could be _no, faster_ or _no, more_ , or the roleplaying plea, but Kotal ignores her wholly. He keeps working her, thumb brushing over her clit, pressing on it, circling around it, while his other fingers keep moving. She whines despite herself, bites down so hard she can taste blood from her lips. She tries to think of anything, everything, that will make her less aroused. She will not come for him. She will not come apart on his hand, she will _not_ , she will not give this barbarian the satisfaction of watching her climax.

He takes it from her instead, driving his fingers into her until her resistance is almost nothing, the effort to refuse and reject a dam that finally breaks when he hits just the right spot of swollen nerves and flesh on her inner wall. His fingers don’t stop, working her through the orgasm with an almost malicious kind of pleasure. She pants and grinds down against his hand, feeling the flood of arousal from her body and the way it only makes her easier for him to manipulate. She does not want this, except her body _does_ , and her mind has no say in the matter.

When he has wrung it all out of her, body shuddering as her muscles try to return to normal, she sags down against the support of his arm.

“You are mine, Jade. You would serve me better if you came to terms with that.” He bends his mouth to hers, tongue forcing its way into her mouth. She tries to fight back, push herself away, biting down on his lips but he is fast and rough and she lets him plunder her. The heat in her core begins to kindle once more.

“You’re going to fuck me, aren’t you?” Once he finishes with her mouth, she can barely speak. Her voice shakes; it could be worry, it could be desire.

“I am,” Kotal says agreeably. “Until you cannot walk. That pristine noblewoman with aching thighs and wobbling knees, smeared with paint.”

“No,” she says, and she’s not sure why.

“You do not get to choose. I take what I want.” He pulls his hand from between her legs and brings it to her face. She sees his fingers soaked with her arousal, smells herself on him. He smears it across her face, marking her with her own wetness like warpaint, and then his hand drops back down, one finger relentlessly driving in and out, sending all of the nerves around her sex afire. A second finger slides inside and he spreads them, twisting, and it’s all she can do not to bite down on him to muffle her pleasure. She doesn’t want to like it, not again, not so soon. Her body does, and she chokes down a needy moan.

“I will never give myself to you,” Jade spits out instead, turning her head away from him.

“I am going to take you. How wet you are for me, Jade. Still. I wonder how long I can fuck you until you beg for more.” A third finger, hard and rough and demanding, before pulling his hand away. The sudden absence is galling, her cunt protesting at the emptiness. “On your knees.”

“Make me,” she snarls, and he wraps his fingers in her long braid and does just that. The pain is piercingly, achingly beautiful against her skull as he uses the braid to tug her, always just the exquisitely right side of too much. A well-placed nudge with his hand between her shoulder blades tips her down onto the pallet, her face hitting a well-padded section that feels suspiciously like a pillow, hidden beneath the pile of furs. Arms still behind her back, he lets her have a moment to adjust herself on the pallet. Once she is settled, he is on top of her without warning, lifting her up by the hips and nudging her knees beneath her. She tries to squeeze her legs together, to kick him away, but there is too much of him and the angle makes it difficult. She can only tip her head sideways, almost comfortable, the furs soft and luxurious against her skin.

It makes a strong contrast with the rough, almost perfunctory way he drives himself into her, as if she is just another thing to be enjoyed, more spoils of war. A rough cry rips itself from her throat. He waits, both hands holding her hips against him, buried to the root in her. It as is if he waits just long enough for her to become accustomed to him filling her, and then he resumes his pounding a few breaths later She can’t keep herself from noises, though; pleasure or refusal, denial or desire, they all drag themselves from her lips and throat. If anyone is close enough to hear, they will know her shame.

He drives himself in and draws himself out at his own pace with no concern for her own desires. One hand spread on the small of her back and pressing her down against him, and wanton pleasure courses through her with every thrust. She begins to try to rock back against him, and the moment she gives in, she feels the wrist bindings come undone. Her hands hit the pallet and push herself up and there is a low groan of approval from the warrior behind her. She can feel him shift, hunch over her, grab one breast in his hand and knead it as he continues his pace inside her. The other hand skims along her back, finds her braid and tugs on it. She resists again, the tugs spurring new sensations through her, until she’s bowing back and every time she tries to drop her head, the pleasure-pain spikes through her.

She drops her head and lets it, and hears herself gasp and shudder, as if it’s a different person making those sounds. Kotal’s response is a throaty groan and an increase in his pace, a redoubling of efforts until all she can hear are their guttural noises of pleasure and the wet harsh smack of skin on skin.

She almost screams as a second climax tears through her, and he doesn’t stop, seeming wholly engrossed in his own pleasure. She can feel herself pulsing around him, her throat almost raw now from the sounds he’s dragged out of her.

“Look at that,” he says roughly. “So much for your dignity.”

He knots his hand in her hair, and slams himself deep inside her, cock jerking in her as he comes. He growls, low and rough and almost terrifying, and tugs her hair. She goes to pull off of him but one hand holds her fast, still impaled on his cock, so she rocks back and sits up carefully. He moves her and himself until he is kneeling with her still on him, her back pressed to his chest. Kotal lets go of her braid, now an utter mess of dark tangled strands, and kisses the place where her neck and shoulder meet.

It is surprisingly gentle, no hint of teeth or tongue.

“Has this been _satisfactory_?” The words drop from her lips, sarcasm and loathing and a little bit of curiosity, too. He kisses the other side of her neck, and gently lifts her up off of him and onto the pallet.

“So much fire in you.” Kotal reaches for something, comes up with a soft cloth and drops it between her legs, cleaning her gently, eyes on her face as he does. “It would be a shame to snuff it out and break you to nothing. Watching you resist is pleasurable. Yes. That was _satisfactory_.”

He waits for a moment, and then his expression softens as he wraps her up in the furs, pulling a basket of food from beneath the camp chair, pouring her water from a canteen set there as well. The basket has all of her favorites in it, cold meats and cheeses and fruit and sweets.

“Are you-“ Kotal’s voice is suddenly much softer, thick and warm like honey, and full with concern. “Are you all right?”

“I am.” She burrows in the furs, savoring their touch against her now, and reaching out one hand for the water. “That was… exhilarating.” She aches in all the right ways, her body limp and her heart pounding. It’s like the world is a fine, blissful fog. She feels Kotal’s weight behind her, and she leans back against him. “We should do that again sometime.”

“I do not know if I can do that,” he says. “It was… that is not how you should be, Jade.”

“You did not do anything I didn’t ask you to do,” Jade replies indignantly. “I trust you not to go too far.” She sips the water, then leans forward to set it aside and pull out a piece of pastry. It flakes apart on her tongue; certainly not the kind of thing she would expect in an Osh-Tekk barbarian’s tent. “I am going to need to wash up before we return. I’m covered in war paint.” She pauses, and then looks up at him. “Then again, it might be interesting to see what happens if I walk back dressed like this.”

“I will let _you_ explain it to Kitana.”

“Now, Kotal. Where’s the fun in that?”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I can't write rape scenes. That's why this may not technically meet the prompt, but it's as close as I personally can get.


End file.
